


Mushaboom

by muchandquick



Category: The Adventure Zone (Podcast)
Genre: Gen, Not Canon Compliant
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-03
Updated: 2017-05-03
Packaged: 2018-10-27 04:16:54
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,626
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10801509
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/muchandquick/pseuds/muchandquick
Summary: Steven Waxman enjoys solving a good problem. When the problem is a boy named Magnus, he wishes he had been more specific about the sorts of problems he likes to solve.





	Mushaboom

**Author's Note:**

  * For [goodnicepeople](https://archiveofourown.org/users/goodnicepeople/gifts).



> This is non-canon compliant! 
> 
> But, I mean, what's the point of fanfic if we can't go awry once and a while?
> 
> Musings about the sort of man Steven Waxman was and how Magnus came into his and Julia's life. 
> 
> Title taken from the Fiest song "Mushaboom" which has a good feel for a story like this. 
> 
> Sort of written for @goodnicepeople because they enjoy a good thought about a good, good boy and this fic was inspired by said thoughts. Is that weird? I hope that isn't weird. Nothing expected in return.

Julia noticed first.

“He’s lying,” she said by way of conversation. Stephen looked up from his cup of tea, which he had forgotten about in the morning and was now sipping it at room-temperature.

“Who’s lying?” Stephen knew his daughter wasn’t one to make ungrounded accusations, but she also already handled the majority of the Hammer and Tongs’ ledgers at 14 years of age, so he knew to take her seriously.

“That boy that runs errands for us, Magnus. He doesn’t charge the right amount for what he’s doing.”

Stephen took a sip of his tea as he mulled this over. He hadn’t noticed anything amiss with the boy. Magnus was one of a string of endless errand boys in Ravens Roost that were put to work at small tasks before they could be trusted in an apprenticeship. However, Julia had a mind that meant she wasn’t only clever when it came to balancing accounts.

“You’re saying he overcharges us? I hardly think that-“ said Stephen, but Julia interrupted him.

“He doesn’t charge _enough_ ,” she said, ending a message on an invoice she had been writing out on parchment with a vicious flick of her quill. She waved one hand over the ink to dry it as she readied the Hammer and Tongs seal (which was, in the literal manner Steven preferred, the two tools crossed over one another). “He should be charging double for what he does. He’s fast, accurate, and he’s been working as a courier long enough to establish rates.”

“You noticed this?”

“I noticed him,” Julia said quietly. The tone caught Steven off-guard and he watched as Julia tried to cover the statement by fussing with the wax and seal. “I ran the numbers. He’d have to be doing at least forty deliveries or errands or whatever to make enough money for a spot near the hearth at the inn, much less a room, and by my estimate he only does about twelve. On a good day. And that’s not even taking food into consideration, which, by the way, I did.”

_You should be anywhere but here,_ Steven thought as he watched his daughter cross her arms, pleased with her deduction. He could see her in magistrate’s robes, defending the innocent of false accusations or even as a judge prescribing justice to the wicked. For a moment he imagined his daughter at one of the grand academies of Neverwinter, an elegant staff in one hand, as a wizard or alchemist or anything that would put her mind to better use than balancing accounts at a woodworker’s shop. He wished so dearly that he had the means to provide those futures to her. _But here you are,_ discussing the rates of the boy that today had brought Steven a delivery of velvet so that he might line the delicate jewelry boxes he had carved. 

“I’ll look into the matter,” he said in the same tone his father had once used with him. Julia nodded and took the invoice to be stacked with the rest that needed to be sent out, and Steven thanked the Gods that his daughter was still young enough to trust that he had the answers to everything.

###

Steven watched Magnus over the next few days. The boy was diligent in his duties as a courier, always polite and courteous, but he caught clues of why Julia had been suspicious of his rates. Magnus’ clothes were tattered at the hems and his sleeves were several inches too short for his arms. What clothing Magnus had was kept clean, but it was obvious that it was old and in need of replacement. He couldn’t be more than one growth-spurt away from bursting at the seams. On top of that, it was early autumn, and despite the crisp mornings, Steven had never seen Magnus in a coat or cloak.

“Well, would you look at that!” said Steven as Magnus entered the shop. “I just cannot believe it, of all the luck!”

Steven had never had a talent for lying, and his acting would have earned him a volley of rotten tomatoes, but he tried his best. He had been lying in wait for Magnus to arrive for the last hour, holding his small parcel in his hands as he wandered the shop aimlessly.

“What’s wrong?” said Magnus.

_Gods love you for taking a cue, son,_ Steven thought to himself. “Oh, hey there, Magnus! I did not hear you come in! I had sent away for a cloak, filled out the order and paid in advance, and it looks like they read my size wrong because…” He held the cloak up to show it was far too small for his frame.

“That’s too bad, Sir,” said Magnus.

“And I can’t even get my money back, what a shame. Say, I have an idea!”

“What’s that, Sir?”

“Why don’t you take it off my hands? It’s far too small for me and I can’t ship it back, so you’d be doing me a real favor. Let’s see if it fits, eh?”

Steven cut off Magnus’ protests and threw the cloak around the boys’ shoulders. He had been forced to guess at the sizing, but a quick conference with a seamstress friend of did the trick. The cloak suited Magnus well; it was a dark shade of green that would hide stains or dirt, made of a sturdy oilcloth that would last until he outgrew it, and had a simple brass clasp that Steven himself could easily remake if it broke.

“You look sharp,” said Steven as Magnus tried to inspect himself.

“I can’t take this,” said Magnus.

“Oh please, go on,” Steven waved a hand in the air, “There’s nothing I can do with it, you’d be getting clutter out of my store.”

“You’re really sure you don’t need it,” said Magnus. He moved his arms back and forth underneath the cloak and touched the fabric carefully, as if it were silk.

“Like I said, lad, you’d be doing me a favor.”

Magnus looked from the cloak to Steven and back a few times, and then put a hand on the cloak’s clasp. “Thanks,” he said.

“You’re welcome. Now off with you! Don’t let me put you off schedule.”

Magnus’ head snapped up. “The baker needs me to deliver cakes for tea-time!”

With that, Magnus was out the door, the bell set over it jingling happily. Steven sat down on a chair he had recently completed for an order and folded his arms, pleased at his work.

###

“He doesn’t have his cloak anymore.”

“I’ll need a little more to work on than that, Julia.”

“He doesn’t wear it anymore,” said Julia. She was seated at the hearth, puzzling over her latest knitting project. Julia was close friends with the wool merchant’s children, and they often tested new patterns together. “I saw him yesterday and the day before, and both times he was in his normal shirt.”

Steven looked up from his carving to the front windows of the Hammer and Tongs. It was early winter now, and a thin layer of frost formed each morning on the window panes. Customers often lingered in the shop to soak up the ambient heat of the forge before they scurried out into the windy streets.

“Did you ask him what happened to it?”

“It’s hard to talk to him. Whenever I say hi, it’s like he remembers he has something to do and it’s in the opposite direction of wherever I am,” she snorted over the soft _klack-klack_ of her knitting needles. “It’s very strange.”

Steven gave a quiet hmm in reply, thinking back to when he was that age. He could imagine Julia spotting Mangus and crossing a street to confront him, and he could see his own wife doing much the same at that age. It would have been the most thrilling and terrifying thing to happen, and he felt sympathy for the poor boy. Neither he nor Magnus stood a chance against such unparalleled women.

“I’ll see if I can ask after what happened to it, make sure no one’s bringing him harm,”

“Thanks,” said Julia as she returned to her knitting. The conversation drifted off into the quiet sounds of knitting and the scrape of Steven’s knife against wood.

_When I said I was fond of solving problems, he thought to any god that might be listening, I didn’t mean like this._

###

“Lad? I’ve got a question for you. Come on in, pull up a stool.”

Steven watched as Magnus’ shoulders stiffened like a deer that had suddenly caught the scent of a wolf. He surveyed the scene as he turned, and Steven had worked hard to make sure it was as non-threatening as possible. There was the warm fire, banked in the late hours of the day, and a small tea set with a kettle full of his favorite blend. He had even picked up a few pastries at the bakery at lunch, and had set them out on a platter. As much as the thought sickened him, Steven would have been a fool to think that Magnus’ reluctance to accept kindness had come from nowhere. If he could show Magnus, just once, that kindness could be offered without asking anything in return, perhaps that would help. He waited for Magnus to make himself comfortable on the stool opposite him before he started.

“Now, I’m not mad, and I won’t get mad, and there’s nothing you can say that’s a wrong answer,” said Steven. The words were unpracticed, but this time they rang true. “Please tell me what happened to the cloak I gave you.”

Magnus fidgeted in his seat before he looked Steven in the eyes, “I gave it away.”

“Gave it away?” said Steven.

“I’m sorry! It was yours and I shouldn’t have-“

“No, no, no, none of that. What do you mean, you gave it away?”

“I mean, well, okay. So every day I pass through the cleric’s district, right?” Magnus’ hands were open, palms help up in supplication. “And for a long time there was this beggar that sat outside one of the churches. The priests would give him a little bit of food when they could, but I saw that he didn’t have a blanket or anything. And it was getting cold, sir, so I gave him the cloak you gave me.” 

“But weren’t you cold without it?”

“Yes, sir.” said Magnus.

“Then why did you give it away?”

“Because that man needed it more than I did, sir.”

The statement nearly knocked Steven off of his stool. Magnus watched him for a moment, one hand cautiously reaching for a pastry, before Steven waved a hand in permission. Magnus leapt on the platter in the way only a hungry teenage boy could. This dirty, half-starved, probably homeless boy was trying to make due with courier’s tips and would still give a total stranger the clothes off of his back.

“I’mf sorrph,” Magnus said around a mouthful of pastry as he offered the last one to Steven, “Do you wmff smph?”

“All yours,” said Steven. He poured them each a cup of tea, let Magnus drain his, and then poured him another.

“Like I said,” Steven chose his words carefully. “I’m not mad, and the cloak was yours to do with as you please, but lad, winter has no such mercy when it comes to freezing you to death.”

“But I can’t not help,” said Magnus. “It’s-“

“Dad? Do we have a guest?”

Steven caught the flash of panic that ran across Magnus’ face at the sound of Julia’s voice. Her footsteps echoed down the stairs as Magnus scrubbed the crumbs off his face.

“Magnus is here, Julia! Would you like to come down and say hello?”

“Magnus? Oh!” The sound of her steps retreated back up the steps before she returned and came into view. Magnus leapt to his feet and for a moment Steven was sure he would bolt out the front door. Julia seemed unperturbed as she approached them, a small bundle of something bright in her hands.

“I made these. For you,” she said, and offered him a pair of gloves. “You said your hands get cold and you were afraid of dropping fragile deliveries, right?”

“I did,” said Magnus. It sounded like someone was pulling the words out of him with a set of pliers.

“Now your fingers can stay warm. Here, give me your hands,” Julia slipped the gloves on his hands one by one and nodded at her handiwork. “Do those fit all right? Do you like the color?”

“Yes?” Magnus’ voice shot up a few octave’s in an embarrassing crack before he cleared his throat. “I, um, yes. They’re really nice. Thank you?”

“Do you remember when I needed help delivering a payment so it wouldn’t be late?” She looked to her father as she admitted a mistake, shrugged apologetically, and then looked back to Magnus, “And you ran all that way to the far spire so it would make it in time?”

“Yeah, I do. You were really worried about it,” said Magnus.

“Well, these are a thank-you gift for that. So, um, thanks,” said Julia. Now it was her turn to be awkward. Steven wished he had an open window nearby to escape into the street and let them have this conversation in private. 

“Thanks, Julia, these are really nice,” said Magnus. He flexed his fingers and swiped the air between them playfully. He growled, and Julia laughed, and Steven was not sure how he felt about that but he held his peace.

“Magnus?” asked Julia.

“Yeah?”

“You’re a nice person, and nice people deserve nice things, okay?” with that, Julia turned and fled back up the stairs. Steven and Magnus followed the sound of her footsteps until they halted and the sound of a door slamming was heard.

Magnus looked back to Steven with a confused expression.

“She’s right, you know,” Steven said with a shrug. “Here’s the deal, Magnus: whenever you want work, you come here to the Hammer and Tongs. There’s plenty that I need an extra set of hands with, and I pay good wages for good work. How’s that sound?”

“Like it’s not true,” said Magnus.

“Well you come on by, and you test my word,” said Steven as he gathered the empty plate and tea kettle. “And you let me know how true they turn out to be.”

Mangus nodded slowly as he let Steven’s words sink in. The boy thanked him profusely for the food, and was out the door and into the chill streets.

###

And then the boy was back. Magnus appeared the next day just before an early winter storm was blowing up debris from below the spires. The door burst open with the strength of the wind and Mangus had to throw himself against it to shut it tight again.

“I’m here,” he said, a small grin across his face.

“So you are,” said Steven. He gestured to the back work room and guided Mangus to the second stool that he had, out of total coincidence, just finished making. “One day you’ll carve it and finish it as your own work. But for today, we’ll start with the basics.”

Magnus swept and dusted, and learned the difference between oak, pine, and ash. At the end of the day, they cracked the front door and peered out onto a white world of snow.

“I think you’ll be spending the night,” said Steven. He knew that Julia was safe at the glass blower’s house, where she had already made plans to spend the night.

“Thank you, that would be…nice,” said Magnus.

And so he did.

And so he stayed.


End file.
